The breeding between these two titans was highly anticipated. Both horses came from immaculate breeding, possessing the highly coveted features from both the Malet and Norwegian Warhorse bloodlines. It only seemed right to breed them, to make the Malorian Warhorse a name to be remembered.
There had been much debate on how War Chant and Hexenbiest should be bred. The stallion would only respond to Rebecca's cues, but her husband was firmly against her handling him for his first breeding.
"He's a two-ton monster, and you are not," he argued.
"Then we pasture-breed them like we do with the rest."
Typically, horses at Blue Butterfly Farm were pasture-bred, though it was not unheard of for them to in-hand breed, especially when the mare and/or stallion were virgin. AI and embryo transfer were reserved as a case-by-case basis.
Chris scrubbed his hand through his black hair. "If those two fight, there will be no stopping them."
"So? We face that same risk every time we breed," Rebecca countered, sipping her coffee casually.
"Honey, this is War Chant we're talking about. Yeah, Hex is easier to handle, but we've never bred either one of them. They could try to kill one another."
She snorted. "You know as well as I do that horses don't fight to the death. They fight until one submits."
"Alright," he sighed, "then what do you recommend we do?"
"Like we always do. Prepare them both and put them in the training arena. It's large in case they want to get away from one another, filled with soft sand, and sturdy in case they do decide to duke it out. We put Hex in first at one end, then WC last at the other." She smiled, patting her husband's hand. "We have a live-in vet, dear. If anything happen, Mike will be right there with his assistants."
Rebecca patted and scratched the loudly-marked mare as the vet did his pre-breeding examination. Hex, while obviously in heat, stood there placidly with her lower lip loose; she was a sucker for a good scratch, and would often begin to snore if petted long enough.
Mike, a kind-eyed older gentlemen whose skin had the leathery appearance of someone who knew long hours in the field, patted the mare on the hip as he finished his exam.
"She's fit as a fiddle, ma'dear," he said with a smile that crinkled the edges of his hazel eyes. "I say let that silver beast give 'er a go."
Rebecca chuckled as she handed off Hex's lead to one of the stable hands. "Aw, c'mon. War Chant isn't that bad."
Mike snorted as he snapped off the latex gloves, chucking them into the trash. "Darlin'," he drawled, "there are days when I suspect the brute forgets that he's supposed to be eatin' grass instead of trying to take a chunk out of anyone that passes by."
"He's fine with me," she replied defensively.
"That's because you have his respect and devotion. He follows you around like a love-sick puppy." He chuckled throatily. "That, and you put the fear of God in him when he was a youngster."
"I had to. That little shit was already getting too big for his britches."
Mike laughed as he gathered up his exam gear. "C'mon. Let's go see that big ol' monster of yours."
War Chant responded with an exuberant whinny as Rebecca whistled for him, the stallion thundering his way across his paddock in gigantic strides. His spotted coat gleamed like silver, even in it's slightly shaggy state, his tail arching over his back like a banner as he pranced toward her.
She stroked his pink muzzle, his hot breath steaming in the frigid morning air as he lipped affectionately at her fingers.
"Hiya, big boy," she crooned at him. "How's my monster?"
The stallion dragged his soft tongue across her jacket, snuffling at her pockets for treats.
"Yeah, you know what's up, don'tcha?" she giggled, digging out his favorite molasses cookies. She slipped his halter on while he crunched on his treats, leading him out toward the arena.
"You better be a good boy for the Doc. No more trying to eat people."
War Chant looked at her with doting green eyes and snorted.
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
War Chant and Doc Mike had come to an understanding when the stallion was barely weaned off his dam: You bite or kick me, and I'm sending your momma after you.
Luckily for the Doc, War Chant couldn't take his eyes off of Hexenbiest to even protest being poked and prodded. He bellowed toward the spotted mare, so focused on her intoxicating scent that it barely registered when he felt himself being cleaned off.
Rebecca lead the giant stallion into the arena, giving him the command to stand while she released his halter; his entire body vibrated with the need to follow the mare, who was taunting him from a few hundred feet away.
She had barely finished saying the command "Release" before War Chant exploded into the most ground-covering gallop she had ever seen. His neck arched, tail flagging, ears perked, nostrils flaring, as he closed on the mare. They met nose to nose, Hex squealing and pawing at him as mare so often do. He pranced around her, nickering and bellowing his desire.
The danced lasted for some time before War Chant claimed his prize.
Things had gone well. The mare was receptive, the stallion fertile, and chances were high of them producing something amazing. Rebecca was eager for the 30, 45, and 60 day scan to confirm Hex's pregnancy.
Hex loosed an enraged bellow, whirling on War Chant with wide-eyed fury; a shallow, but bleeding, mark on her shoulder where the stallion had bitten her. The mare slashed at the air before the startled stallion, his legs nearly unable to keep up with the crab-like movement as he scrambled away from his very angry lover. Hex chased him off with ears pinned flat against her skull, her teeth clacking together loudly as they barely missed his flesh.
After being shooed away rather viciously, War Chant trotted back to Rebecca, sides heaving and steaming with sweat. Laughter echoed around the arena from those who had come by to watch.
Barely able to stifle her own laughter, she patted the chagrined stallion gently and slipped his halter on.
"It's alright, honey. It rarely goes well the first time for anyone."